I Remember Movement
by Judi Gill
I remember the fun I experienced walking when I was a child. There were always new things to touch, feel, and see. I loved walking barefoot in the grass early in the morning before the summer sun evaporated the dew. The grass tickled the soles of my feet and was cold, but I would do it over and over again because it felt good. I remember walking barefoot along rain swollen streets. The water refreshed and soothed as the current carried it past my feet and ankles. I would play peek-a-boo with my foot--now you see it, now you don’t--as I lifted it in and out of the water.
I remember the joy I experienced running when I was a child. It felt so good to pump my arms up and down to the accompaniment of my feet slapping the hard earth. I remember being conscious of the air flowing in through my nose and mouth and down into my lungs. I enjoyed the puffing sound I made when I was starting to become winded. I remember the wind blowing through my hair, lifting it away from my face, feeling cool against my skin. I remember the roar the air made swirling around inside my ears as I ran through what appeared clear and weightless.
I remember the strength I felt in my legs as an athlete. I remember how satisfying it felt to part the water with my thighs while doing a scissor kick in the pool. I remember being amused at how high I could make the water splash. I remember the deep thunking sound as the water was displaced, followed by a soft tinkling as the drops returned to the pool. I remember pointing my toes, extending the line, during gymnastics and ballet class. I remember the lift my now powerful legs could give me when I needed height for an aerial trick. I remember my legs gathering the shock of my landing from the balance beam and stopping it. I remember my legs knowing instinctively what they needed to do to guide my horse: an imperceptible squeeze and the horse was off and running.
I remember being a young mother “walking” my son. We walked when he was tired and needed soothing. We walked when I wanted to show him something new and fascinating. We walked together as he took his first baby steps. We walked more confidently as his legs became stronger and more sure. Then I was running to catch him as he played hide and seek, wandered too far, or headed into dangerous territory.
I remember walking him to his first day of school. I remember walking him to the Army deployment center and knowing we would both never be the same.
I remember feeling a pop in my knee as I turned, thinking it was nothing. I remember standing, but not being able to walk or put my weight on my leg. I remember being told I had suffered severe damage to my knee that would require surgery and physical therapy, so that I could walk again. I remember having my leg immobilized for six weeks and then trying to move something that no longer felt like it belonged to me. I remember seeing my leg again for the first time and thinking, “Where did this come from?” I remember trying to bend a joint that once moved freely. I remember not having any sensation from my upper thigh down, needing crutches because my body had no sense of where my leg was. I remember months of physical therapy. I remember pain. I remember frustration. I remember despair.
I remember being grateful for my memories; they helped me to get through this period. I remember telling my legs, “Remember? You used to do this!”
I remember gaining strength.
I remember being told how to place my heel then roll to the sole when taking my first step.I remember thinking, “I am forty-five years old, and I have to learn to walk again.”